


Playing Pretend

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Series: Sterek New Year's Extravaganza [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College Student Stiles, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, Pining Derek, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-03-01 20:23:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13302501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: “Anyway, with this dinner and the whole plus one thing, everyone’s expecting to meet my boyfriend so I need you to come out for a weekend and pretend we’re dating.”Derek didn’t hesitate in his response. “No.”“No?” Stiles sputtered.“No,” he repeated, enunciating clearly and taking a bite of his burger.“Come on, Derek!” Stiles exclaimed loudly, throwing both hands in the air. “I need your help!”(SNYE - January 9th - Fake or Pretend)





	Playing Pretend

**Author's Note:**

> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis

It had been a long time since Derek had allowed himself to splurge. He generally didn’t feel he had the right or it wasn’t the right time or something just always _happened_.

But today, he had decided that he deserved this. He deserved this little moment of joy and happiness and he wasn’t going to let himself talk his way out of this. Today, he was doing it.

“I’ll have a bacon double cheeseburger with a side of Cajun curly fries and a coke.” He handed the menu back to the server.

“Coming right up, sugar.”

Derek wondered if they were required to talk like that because this was a diner or if maybe the woman just happened to speak like that. He didn’t dwell on it, but just leaned back in his booth seat and crossed his arms, staring at the people going past outside the window.

Things had quieted down since his return to Beacon Hills, and he was finding it hard to acclimate to the change. He was used to being on guard, tense, prepared for the next battle. But now, he could go four months without even hearing about anything bad happening.

It was disorienting. Nice, but disorienting.

The waitress returned a few minutes later with his drink, and almost fifteen after that with his food. He didn’t mind, he wasn’t in a hurry, and he picked at his fries while continuing to stare out the window.

He heard the door open, eyes still on the people outside, and smelled him before anything else. The second he knew he was there, it was like all of his senses focussed in on him. His smell, the sound of his heartbeat, the nervous fidgeting. He wished he could tune him out, but he hadn’t been able to do that for years.

Knowing he could only be there for him, and wondering how he’d tracked him down to begin with, Derek waited for Stiles to decide if he was going to go through with whatever he was there for.

A few seconds passed, and then familiar footfalls hit the linoleum as Stiles crossed the establishment and slid easily into the booth across from him.

Derek turned his gaze away from the window to look at him, eyebrows raised and hand reaching for his burger.

“I need a favour,” Stiles blurted out just as Derek was taking a bite of his burger. He felt like it was a good thing his mouth was full or he was liable to agree without a second’s hesitation and, with Stiles, that was dangerous.

“Oh,” Derek said, chewing his food enough that he could tuck it into one cheek so he could speak freely. “This should be good.”

Stiles frowned at him in confusion and Derek just motioned him with his burger.

“You drove all the way back to Beacon Hills on a weekend just so you could ask me for a favour face to face.” Derek gave him a look. “That is just a flashing neon sign of this being amusing for me.”

Stiles didn’t seem to share his sentiment. Derek took another bite of his burger, staring at him, waiting expectantly.

He watched him fidget, long, slender fingers tapping an unknown beat against the tabletop and mouth opening and closing a few times.

Finally, Stiles licked his lips and leaned forward, placing both hands on the table.

“Okay,” he finally said, “so, there’s this super ritzy dinner with the president of the university for the highest scoring students in each faculty. I got an invite, for obvious reasons, but I’m meant to bring a plus one. I’ve kind of been talking up having a boyfriend all year so people would stop acting like I can’t get a date because I’m, well, you know.” Stiles motioned himself dismissively and no, Derek didn’t know, but he said nothing as Stiles continued. “Anyway, with this dinner and the whole plus one thing, everyone’s expecting to meet my boyfriend so I need you to come out for a weekend and pretend we’re dating.”

Derek didn’t hesitate in his response. “No.”

“No?” Stiles sputtered.

“No,” he repeated, enunciating clearly and taking a bite of his burger.

“Come on, Derek!” Stiles exclaimed loudly, throwing both hands in the air. “I need your help!” He leaned forward and lowered his voice, hands splayed on the table. “Where’s your sense of Pack duty?”

“Ask Scott,” Derek said around a mouthful of food.

Stiles huffed and crossed his arms, leaning back in the booth. “I can’t, my friends have already met him, and he wouldn’t be able to pull off pretending we’re dating.”

Derek paused with the burger at his lips, staring at Stiles and wondering why in the hell he thought Derek would be better at pretending they were dating than his own best friend.

Lowering the burger and making sure to keep his expression neutral, he gave Stiles a curious look. “And you think I can?”

The unimpressed look he received in response suggested Stiles was positive Derek could. Which was concerning because Derek was positive he had a better poker face than that.

“I was there,” Stiles said dryly. “When I had to sneak into the police station to free Isaac? You wooed the officer at the front like nobody’s business. If any one of us can go into acting, it’s you. I know you can do this, and you owe me.”

“Oh, I owe you, now?” Derek picked his burger back up and took another bite, chewing while Stiles spluttered like an adorable idiot.

“Hey, listen, do you know how many times I’ve saved your life?” Stiles demanded, pointing his finger accusingly at Derek.

“Do you know how many times I’ve saved yours?” Derek countered, food tucked into one cheek while he replied.

“Eighty-seven which is still well below the one-hundred and twelve times I’ve saved yours.”

Whatever Derek had expected, it certainly wasn’t that. He stared at Stiles incredulously, wondering if he was serious.

The nervous uptick of his heart and averted gaze suggested he was. And was also embarrassed.

“What?” he mumbled. “I have ADHD, I have to keep busy somehow! If you’re wondering, I’ve saved Scott forty-seven times and he’s saved me eighteen times.” Stiles paused to frown, lost in thought for a moment, then focussed back on Derek. “You know, when I say it out loud, it makes Scott seem like a really bad friend.”

“It’s still no, Stiles,” Derek told him before Stiles got distracted and lost in his own mind, taking another bite of his burger.

Seeming to remember what they were discussing, Stiles slammed both hands on the table, leaning forward so he was almost right in Derek’s personal space.

“Come on, Derek! When have I ever asked you for anything ever?”

“Yesterday,” Derek reminded him, Stiles’ face falling, “when you asked me if you could spend the night in the loft.”

Stiles sputtered like an idiot before exclaiming, “My dad was home! I didn’t want him thinking I’d come to visit him only to crush his soul when he found out it was _you_  I came here for! Thanks, by the way, for breaking my dad’s heart.”

Derek kept eye contact with Stiles, and very deliberately took another bite of his burger.

“Cold, Derek. Cold.”

Derek just shrugged, chewing and unconcerned with Stiles’ assessment of him. They were silent for a few minutes while Derek finished his burger. Stiles reached out to snag a curly fry and Derek slapped his hand much harder than he was sure he needed to, but it would hopefully discourage Stiles from trying again.

No dice. Five minutes later when Derek was taking a sip of his drink, Stiles reached for one of the few fries left and Derek pinned his hand to the table, raising his eyebrows at him.

“Come on, Derek, please?” Stiles insisted again, as if their conversation hadn’t stopped for almost ten minutes.

“No,” Derek repeated.

“Please?”

“I said no.”

“Please, please, _please_?” Stiles was slapping at the arm pinning his other hand to the table and Derek had to resist the urge to rip it off and bitch-slap Stiles back with it.

“If I go, will you shut up?” he demanded when Stiles continued to beg over and over.

Those words had him snapping his mouth shut, eyes wide while he nodded vigorously.

Derek eyed him for a long while, knowing he was going to regret this. Only a fucking idiot would actually agree to be in a pretend relationship with someone they were legitimately interested in.

Apparently, Derek was a fucking idiot.

“Fine,” he snapped, releasing Stiles’ trapped hand. “I’ll go. Text me the details and let me finish my meal in peace or the deal’s off.”

Stiles pumped both fists in the air, looking around as if for someone to high five or share his victory with. When he found no one, he just scrambled out of the booth, bowing repeatedly in Derek’s direction on his way out and earning more than a few stares.

If murder weren’t illegal, Derek would have ripped his throat out, but he couldn’t help the warmth in his chest at the clear elation rolling off Stiles in waves. He was grinning widely, eyes bright and excited, and he smelled like pure happiness.

Derek watched him until he was out the door, pulling his phone out while heading for the Jeep, likely to call Scott.

Once he’d driven away, Derek pushed his unfinished fries away from himself and folded his hands together, pressing them against his lips and scowling.

Was he a complete idiot? What was he thinking? There was only one way this was going to end, and that was with Derek heartbroken and shut down. He was an idiot. A bonafide fucking _idiot_.

“All done there, sugar?”

Derek glanced up at the waitress, still scowling, and resisted the urge to wolf out right then and there.

“I’d like an apple pie.”

“Sure thing, honey.” She reached for his unfinished meal and smiled. “One slice of apple pie, coming right up.”

“No,” Derek said. “Not a slice. The whole pie.”

Maybe he could give himself a heart attack before the dinner.

It would probably hurt less than what was coming.

* * *

Derek felt ready to hurl his phone out the window every time it went off, because the possibility of it being Stiles stressed him out. By the time he finally got the text with all the pertinent details, he was almost relieved because it meant he could move on with his life without cringing every time his phone went off.

Stiles had all the details included, which meant it was less a text message and more an essay via text. The dinner was on a Saturday evening, but he had a pre-outing with some friends the Friday before and they wanted to do brunch the Sunday after.

Basically, they wanted to see Derek and Stiles spend a weekend together to prove they were, well, _together_. Great.

He knew it wouldn’t be a problem going out Friday and coming back Sunday. The advantage of not having a job and living off insurance money, though he supposed he should look into getting one. His money was slowly running out so he needed to start earning income.

Stiles gave him a brief rundown of details he’d told his friends, pet names and how they met and everything. It sounded like he’d been building up the fake relationship for a while, mixing in different information about all of his friends, likely in an attempt not to forget any details.

He also mentioned Derek needed to not be a scowly, grumpy asshole, and had to smile at least twice an hour. That would be fun.

And there was the sleeping arrangements.

Stiles had a roommate, so they couldn’t sleep with one of them on the floor, but had to legitimately share a bed.

This was all perfect. Stupendous. Wonderful, even. Derek wanted to stab himself repeatedly in the face for being stupid enough to think this wasn’t going to backfire horribly.

He’d texted back asking about hugging, cuddling and kissing—because, why yes, he _was_  a masochist—and Stiles had confirmed the first two. He said kissing would depend on the situation, but they would need to at least kiss on the cheek occasionally and have one greeting peck on the lips to make it believable.

Derek was fucking screwed. Why had he thought this would be a good idea? What on earth had he been thinking?

He woke up from wet dreams about Stiles at least three times a week, and now he was meant to spend _two nights_  in his bed? _With_  him? _Cuddling_?!

Yeah, Derek was an idiot, and he was screwed.

* * *

The six hour drive to Stiles’ university was mostly spent with Derek convincing himself not to turn around, and not get too carried away. He could do some light touching and occasional kisses and hugs freely while people were around, but he would have to make sure he didn’t get so carried away that he forgot himself when they were in private with no one else around.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly when he finally turned into the lot closest to Stiles’ dorm, having been provided with directions to it. He pulled up to the guard station and had to give his name and provide ID to get a visitor parking pass and was directed to the visitor’s lot.

He tried to be thankful that he wouldn’t have to pay to park for the weekend but it was difficult when his heart was trying to beat itself out of his ribcage.

He shouldn’t have agreed to this. He was fucking stupid. He was going to regret this. He was going to fucking leave after the weekend and drive away and never stop. This was a disaster.

Derek sat in his car for a good ten minutes after parking, trying to remind himself that Stiles was _Stiles_  and that, if nothing else, he wouldn’t make fun of him if he found out how Derek truly felt.

Maybe.

Probably?

Hopefully.

Pulling his phone out, he texted Stiles to let him know he’d arrived.

They didn’t need to be careful with texting, Stiles had informed him, because Stiles was always extremely private with his phone. Considering he still texted the Pack about Supernatural things, it made sense, but also helped in this situation because it wouldn’t be suspicious.

Stiles texted back a few minutes later to say he was just coming out of class with one of his friends and they’d meet him at the parking lot entrance.

Exhaling slowly and rolling his eyes for being so fucking nervous about _nothing_ , Derek kicked open his door and climbed out. Reaching for his duffel on the passenger seat, he pulled it over his shoulder and slammed the door, heading for the parkade entrance.

It felt weird and awkward hanging out alone outside a university parking garage, but it occurred to him that he used to lurk on school grounds when the others had still been in high school so, by comparison, this wasn’t as weird.

He was waiting almost eight minutes before he heard someone call his name. Turning, he saw Stiles jogging down the sidewalk, grinning like Derek was the light of his life and making it extremely obvious he was about to jump on him.

Allowing an endearing smile to cross his features, since he was sure the guy trailing behind Stiles was his friend, Derek rearranged his duffel slightly, and grabbed at Stiles when he leapt at him.

Stiles was lucky he was a Werewolf, because anyone else would’ve dropped him. He’d jumped right up off the ground, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, hugging him tightly like a koala on a tree.

Derek buried his face in Stiles’ neck, inhaling deeply. If he was going to pretend to date Stiles, at least he could get something out of it. Even if it would just make everything hurt more later.

Hugging him tightly with one arm around his middle, and the other under Stiles’ ass which was _definitely_  there to stop him from falling and _not_  so he could cop a feel, he allowed himself a few seconds to pretend this was all real. When Stiles pulled away slightly, Derek let him and felt a soft, quick press of lips against his.

“Hey,” Stiles said with a grin.

“Hi,” Derek replied, slowly letting Stiles go so he could put both feet back on the ground. His eyes shifted to Stiles’ friend, who looked extremely confused, but smelled a little turned on. It kind of bothered Derek that Stiles’ friend was getting turned on watching them re-unite.

“Brian, this is my boyfriend, Derek.”

“The elusive boyfriend at last,” Brian said, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Derek shook his hand, and wrapped his other arm around Stiles.

Stiles immediately leaned into him, and Derek was struck by how _right_  this felt and how badly he wished it was real. He forced the thoughts aside, needing to focus on making all of this believable without Stiles cluing in to anything.

“Dorm’s this way,” Stiles said, motioning and waiting for Derek to turn with him so they didn’t separate. Stiles even wrapped one arm around Derek’s waist so they both held each other while they walked leisurely, Brian on Stiles’ other side.

“How was the drive?”

“Long. Why else do I avoid doing it?” Derek asked, throwing a small smile Stiles’ way.

The student bumped his hip playfully, and began bemoaning Derek’s coldness loudly, insisting it wasn’t fair he always had to drive back to Beacon Hills when he wanted to see him. Derek just reminded him he had an empty loft whereas Stiles had a roommate, and they playfully bantered on their way to the dorm.

It was weird knowing Stiles so well that they could easily act this way. Derek didn’t think he could pretend like this with anyone else in the Pack, but he supposed Stiles wasn’t just _anyone_.

He was _Stiles_.

They reached the dorm relatively quickly, and Derek expected Brian to split off, but instead he followed them inside when Stiles swiped his keycard and entered a code. Following him up the two flights of stairs, they entered the corridor and walked past a loud common area to head for Stiles’ room. When he walked by after Stiles, conversation immediately ceased, and picked back up again only once they were down the corridor.

_“Dude, is that Stiles’ boyfriend?!”_

_“No way, he was lying about that, wasn’t he?”_

_“That guy is **smokin’**  hot. No way Stilinski scored someone that attractive.”_

The last comment annoyed him, especially considering it had come from a girl’s mouth. He just made sure to stand exceptionally close to Stiles while he got the door unlocked and pushed it open.

“Hey Matt,” Stiles said when he entered, Derek following him and Brian taking up the rear. “This is Derek.”

“Holy shit, he’s attractive for an imaginary boyfriend,” Matt blurted out, and then looked mortified.

“Don’t worry man, even straight guys can appreciate the hotness that is Derek.” Stiles turned to wink at him. “Don’t worry, Matt’s got a girlfriend, so I won’t be asking for any threesomes.”

“Good, I don’t share,” Derek informed him, walking past Stiles to set his things down and kissing his temple briefly on his way by.

It was easy to tell which side of the room was Stiles’. The bed was unmade, there were clothes strewn on every available surface, and he had papers and news articles taped all over the wall. Derek noticed some of them had to do with weird disappearances that had occurred in the area earlier in the year, which had involved a Vampire nest. Derek, Scott and Chris Argent had driven up one weekend to clear it out, and Stiles had thrown a fit for not being invited. Humans were sensitive that way.

Dropping his duffel onto the floor by the foot of the bed, he fell heavily into the desk chair and turned to face the others in the room. Brian and Matt were giving each other meaningful looks while Stiles stood obliviously by the door, phone in hand and texting.

Probably Scott.

“So, Brian and I are gonna head out for a bit.”

“Oh, sweet,” Stiles said, distracted while he finished typing and then putting his phone away. “Where to? Derek, you wanna go out for a bit?”

“No, you’re not invited,” Matt insisted. When Stiles looked at him, half-offended and half-hurt, Matt widened his eyes and tilted his head in Derek’s direction.

“Oh. Oh, yeah. Of course,” Stiles blurted. “Derek, we’re not going out.”

“Sounds good to me.” Derek gave Stiles his most winning smile, and was starting to think that neither Brian nor Matt were completely straight, because all three of them—including Stiles—smelled faintly like arousal.

“We’ll text you when we’re heading to dinner. Neil, Jess and Maya said they’d meet us at the restaurant.”

“Sure thing.” Stiles patted Matt’s back when he walked by to head out the door, and waved after his two friends once they were outside. He shut the door, and turned to Derek, opening his mouth to speak but the Werewolf raised one hand to silence him and tilted his head so he could listen.

 _“Dude, no fucking way that guy is his boyfriend,”_  Matt hissed quietly while he and Brian headed down the corridor.

_“They kissed, man.”_

_“With tongue?”_

_“No, but still. You don’t just kiss another dude if you’re not dating him.”_

_“A peck on the lips is nothing. And you’re fine kissing a dude if you’re bisexual and close friends, dumbass.”_  The sound of a hand hitting the back of a head met him and he didn’t need to see the scowl to hear it in Brian’s voice.

_“You didn’t see him, Matt. The guy looked like Stiles was his entire world when he was jogging up to him. They are definitely dating.”_

They were too far out of range for him to hear Matt’s reply, so he focussed back on Stiles, who was watching him expectantly. He held out both hands on either side of himself, obviously waiting for a sitrep.

“Brian buys it, but Matt doesn’t.”

“I knew it,” Stiles insisted, punching the air with one hand and scowling, rubbing at his mouth in a fashion very similar to his father. “What do we do?”

Derek just stared at him and Stiles rolled his eyes. Derek wasn’t going to dig himself deeper into a hole, so it was much easier to just let Stiles figure shit out for himself. Though Derek was a little frustrated with how many people kept insisting he was too good looking for Stiles.

Did they have eyes? Because if they did, they would realize Stiles was _extremely_  attractive, something which Derek had unfortunately had to live with for the past few years. Even when he’d first met him, all awkward limbs and obnoxious personality, he’d still found him kind of endearing, in his own way.

Fast forward a few life-or-death situations, comfort and protections later, and Derek didn’t know how Scott had survived growing up with the kid and not falling for him. Though he had looked a little more juvenile with the buzzcut, Derek much preferred his grown out hair.

“What if we made out?”

And that promptly shut down Derek’s brain, the older man blinking at Stiles.

“What?” It was more of a growl than a word, but Stiles was so used to it he just bulled on like he hadn’t even realized Derek hadn’t sounded human.

“You can listen for when they come back. All we have to do is make sure we’re on the bed partially clothed and making out when they walk in. No guy would go that far with another guy unless they were dating.”

Derek gave Stiles a look, eyebrows raised and attempting to communicate to him that _they_  weren’t dating, and he was asking a little much of him. Especially considering that would probably cause him to have some problems in the downstairs region if he was that close to a partially naked Stiles.

Stiles rolled his eyes at him, waving a hand dismissively. “Whatever dude, we’ve done way worse. Remember that time last year I was literally pushing your intestines back into your stomach while you healed? Yeah, way worse than you making out with me for a few minutes. One-hundred and twelve,” Stiles said, motioning himself. “Eighty-seven.” He pointed at Derek.

“Does it count as saving your life if I want to kill you a lot and refrain?” Derek asked.

“No.”

“Worth a shot.”

Derek looked around the room, finding it odd that it was so very _Stiles_  even though it wasn’t his room back home. He’d still made it his own, despite having a roommate, and it was comforting to know Stiles didn’t change with his environment.

Though the mingled scents of Stiles and Matt kind of annoyed Derek, he didn’t dwell on it because it was obviously going to happen with roommates. Still, would’ve been preferred if it was purely Stiles on one half of the room and then an invisible line down the middle where Matt’s scent started.

“Matt doesn’t care that you’re bisexual?” Derek asked, more for something to think about other than how good Stiles smelled. He hadn’t seen him for months, the brief stint in the diner two weeks ago hardly counting.

“Nah, he and Brian are cool. Brian’s first question when he found out I was bisexual was whether or not he was considered attractive to guys.” Stiles shrugged. “Neil gives me a hard time sometimes, but we only let him hang out with us because of Jess. Matt and I met her at a party our first day here, and we’ve been friends ever since. Maya is Brian’s unofficial girlfriend.” Stiles made air quotes and rolled his eyes.

“I thought Matt had the girlfriend.”

“He does, but she lives in a Sorority and doesn’t hang out with us much. He usually goes to see her and she’ll drop by the dorm every now and then to drag him to dinner, but mostly we don’t see her.”

Derek nodded, trying to act interested. He didn’t really care about the people Stiles had met that he would probably never speak to again once he graduated. Anyone he hadn’t shared the Supernatural with wasn’t a lifelong friend, so Derek wasn’t interested, but he tried to be understanding since these were the people Stiles spent all his time with.

After chatting about his friends and classes for a little bit, Stiles jumped up onto his bed and turned to face Derek at his desk, the two of them moving on to things that tended to be more their area of discussion. Stiles commented on the few Werewolves he’d met on campus and how one of them was a bitten Omega looking for a Pack. He’d given them Scott’s number and they were supposed to connect in the summer for a face to face.

Derek mostly talked about the changes in Beacon Hills since his return. Stiles asked a lot of questions about the Sheriff and Derek wished he’d been more observant, but he honestly hadn’t given the man much thought. Not because he didn’t care, but because Parrish was on top of it and Derek always saw the deputy giving his boss a hard time when he went off his healthy eating.

They chatted about the others, and how Liam and the rest of the pack were doing without Scott and Stiles around all the time. Derek tried to help them out when they needed it and kept them in line, but he wasn’t particularly fond of them, so he didn’t go out of his way to be near them like he had with Scott and Stiles at the beginning. He figured if they were in a life-or-death situation, he’d help them out, but otherwise they should handle things on their own. Scott and Stiles had managed just fine, sometimes Derek felt like he’d barely done anything at all except get mortally wounded and require assistance.

They were in the middle of discussing the dreaded topic of Stiles not having been called for the Vampire nest when Derek heard the familiar voices heading up the stairs and coming in their direction.

“They’re coming,” he informed Stiles while he was mid-rant. His face was red from his attempts to keep his voice down and contain his anger, but Derek felt like that was probably a good thing. 

It would make it more believable.

“Oh shit,” Stiles hissed, flailing about on the bed. “We didn’t talk about—what should we take off?”

Derek rolled his eyes while he got to his feet and stripped out of his shirt, then undid his jeans and pushed them down slightly.

“Take your pants off.”

Stiles hastened to undo them and kicked out his legs to get them off. Derek smacked him when he almost got kicked in the face and grabbed at Stiles’ shoes with one hand each, pulling them off and dumping them on the ground. He toed off his own shoes while Stiles struggled to get his jeans all the way off and Derek yanked them from around his ankles and tossed them on the floor.

Stiles’ heart was jackrabbitting in his chest and Derek made sure not to look into that too much when he crawled on top of him. He pushed his pants down just a little more and Stiles looked anywhere but at him while he spread his legs so Derek could fit between them. From this close, he smelled like arousal and embarrassment.

Derek cocked an eyebrow at him and Stiles flushed, half in anger, half in embarrassment.

“What? You’re hot, okay! I can admit it! Now shut up and kiss me!”

When the Werewolf gave him a look, Stiles scoffed.

“You know what I mean. Your eyebrows are their own language. Come on.” Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck and pulled him down, crushing their lips together.

It was a little painful, because Stiles was urgently trying to ensure they didn’t get caught pretending, but Matt and Brian were still down the corridor. There was a girl with them, but he didn’t know yet if it was Jess or Maya since neither of them said her name. They were still debating whether or not Stiles and Derek were actually together.

When they were only a few doors down, Derek forced himself to lower his previously hovering body down so he was pressed right up against Stiles. Grabbing one of Stiles’ legs, he pulled it up around his waist, holding it there with one hand, and shifted the other into Stiles’ hair.

They hadn’t spoken about actual _kissing_ , since Stiles had mentioned it shouldn’t come up, but if he was going to let Derek rock his quickly hardening cock against him, then he damn well couldn’t freak out over a little kissing.

When the three were outside the door, Derek tugged hard at Stiles’ hair, the other grunting and parting his lips as intended. Derek tried not to get overwhelmed by the pure taste of _Stiles_  when he pressed his tongue into his mouth, rocking his hips as the door opened.

“Holy shit!”

Derek jerked his face away from Stiles’, as if pretending to be startled, and looked over at the door.

Matt had the decency to look away, probably because it was nothing he wanted to see, but Brian and the girl were both staring with their mouths hanging open. It looked more like shock than interest though, and Derek was once again hit with a flare of annoyance that they didn’t think Stiles was good enough for someone like Derek.

“I thought you were going to text us!” Stiles blurted out, a light flush along his cheeks and the column of his neck. His hair was sticking up more than usual, and he looked positively debauched. Too bad it had literally only been for five seconds, Derek would’ve loved to play it out longer.

“You can—yeah, finish.” The girl waved one hand while backing out of the room but Stiles just sighed and pushed at Derek’s chest to make him sit up.

“No, you killed the mood,” he muttered, sounding extremely put out. “We’ll finish later.” Stiles kissed Derek’s lips briefly and then turned to his friends again.

When Derek focussed on them, he jumped and winced at the feel of Stiles’ hands slapping against his pectorals.

“Hey, hey! No staring at the goods! These are my goods!”

“Can you blame me for looking?” the girl demanded. “You put a half-naked God in front of me, I’m gonna stare at him.” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows.

Stiles groaned and pressed his forehead against Derek’s chest, the Werewolf still sitting up on his knees between Stiles’ legs. He wrapped his arms around Stiles and let out a chuckle while the other ground his forehead into Derek’s chest and held him tightly around the middle.

“Derek, Jess. Jess, Derek.”

“Hello boyfriend Derek.” She gave him a wave while walking further into the room and making herself comfortable on Matt’s bed. Brian did the same in Stiles’ chair, showing a familiarity with the place that suggested the two of them were around a lot.

“Does it bother you that he never talks about you?” Matt asked, shutting the bedroom door and taking the other desk chair. He picked up Stiles’ jeans and threw them at the back of his head, but Stiles just flipped him off with his face still buried in Derek’s chest.

His hot breath against his skin was making it very difficult for Derek to concentrate.

“Not really.” Derek shrugged, one hand absently rubbing at Stiles’ back. “I know where we are in our relationship. He doesn’t have to brag about me for me to know he cares.”

“Oh, he brags,” Jess insisted with a grin. “He’s alway going off like, ‘my boyfriend gives the best backrubs’ and ‘my boyfriend drives a Camaro’ and ‘my boyfriend once saved me from a rabid wolf’ and stuff.”

“Jess!” Stiles whipped around to face her, voice higher than usual and a horrified look on his face. He smelled like fear and embarrassment and it was obvious he knew it, because without even looking at Derek, he reached up one hand and slapped it against his face hard, palm pressing his nose almost flat.

“What? It’s true!”

“Don’t repeat things I tell you in confidence! It’s embarrassing!”

“Right,” she drawled, unimpressed. “Because us walking in here with you both half-naked and humping isn’t embarrassing.”

“Okay, seriously? That’s my roommate,” Matt insisted, motioning Stiles. “I gotta live with that.”

“Hey!”

Derek tuned them out while they bickered, Stiles still half-turned away from him, but still holding him with one arm, the other pushing at his face. If he were a lesser man, he’d have licked Stiles’ palm or bitten his wrist, but he refrained.

He couldn’t help but focus on the words that had come out of Jess’ mouth.

Derek had given Stiles a backrub once. Just the once, and it had been because Stiles had gotten badly beaten during an encounter with some hunters, but he’d been so delirious with pain and sleep-deprived that he’d muttered Derek was the best masseuse in the world.

And theoretically, Peter had been kind of rabid way back in the beginning of Stiles’ life in the Supernatural world, so Derek had _technically_  saved him from a rabid wolf.

And he most assuredly owned a Camaro.

Stiles had given him some background on their not-relationship when he’d first texted him, but he’d neglected a few details. Mostly he’d been saying things that were a mix of his friends, but Jess had thrown out three things that were distinctly _Derek_.

He didn’t dwell on it, because his mind was going somewhere dangerous, and he focussed back in on the conversation.

This was going to be an extremely long weekend.

* * *

Dinner had come and gone without any incidents. Derek and Neil hit it off somehow, despite his clear dislike of Stiles. Derek assumed it was because they both liked the same baseball team, and had spent most of dinner talking about the last game they’d watched.

Maya was nice, but she and Brian kept making eyes at one another across the table, and it got annoying after a while sensing their desire for one another. Derek just kept his arm wrapped around Stiles’ shoulders for most of it, and whenever it got too much to handle, he would lean close to Stiles to kiss his temple or inhale his scent, and then very deliberately lean close to whisper in his ear.

They were never sexy things, mostly just all the ways Derek could kill him and dispose of his body without anyone knowing. Stiles just laughed and elbowed him every time he did it, and Derek pulled away smiling. He knew he and Stiles had a weird relationship in general, so it shouldn’t have surprised him that threatening Stiles with bodily harm would be met with a laugh.

When they got back to the dorm, Matt reminded them that shower rules indicated only _one_  person per stall, which Stiles rolled his eyes at. He and Derek took turns in the communal bathroom just to prove to Matt that there would be no funny business.

Matt ended up going after the two of them were done and getting ready for bed.

“I run hot,” Derek told Stiles when he was sure Matt was gone. “It’s not going to be a problem if I sleep in my shorts, is it?”

Stiles winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Werewolf. Right. Should’ve figured that.” He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, it’s fine, I guess.”

“You can rub against me and make out with me, but me sleeping in my shorts makes you uncomfortable?” Derek asked, slightly amused. 

“That was for like, ten seconds! This is for an entire night!” Stiles crossed his arms over his chest defensively, already wearing a sleep shirt and some sweats. “Also, we need to figure out sleeping arrangements because I need my back to the wall, I have to see the door, and I suck at being the big spoon.” When Derek cocked an eyebrow, Stiles shrugged. “So says Malia.”

“Right.” Derek had almost forgotten Malia and Stiles had dated for a while.

Mostly because he liked not to think about it.

“Well, if I’m spooning you, is that going to work? I’ll be closest to the wall, but your back will still be to it, and you can see the door.” Stiles winced, which meant it wasn’t great. “What about if I sleep on my back? That way your back is to the wall, and you can use me as a pillow so I’m not obstructing your view of the door.”

“Can we try it?”

Derek shrugged and pushed back the covers on Stiles’ bed, slipping beneath them in his boxer-briefs. Stiles climbed over him, almost kneeing him in the balls, and the two of them got settled on the bed. Derek wrapped one arm around Stiles so he could pull him more comfortably against his side, and the teen rested his cheek against Derek’s chest, one leg coming up so it was overtop Derek’s.

“This is good,” Stiles said quietly.

“Good.” Derek sat up and quickly climbed back out of bed. He didn’t need to be there yet, and it would just cause more problems.

They shifted so they were sitting up on Stiles’ bed, watching a movie on his laptop. When Matt came back, he joined them and asked questions for a majority of the remainder of it, since he’d missed the beginning and had no idea what was going on. After it ended, they decided to call it a night and Matt turned off the light before heading to his bed.

Derek tried not to focus on how much everything right now smelled like _Stiles_. He just got under the covers, lying on his back, and Stiles scooted down by the wall until he was flush against Derek, one leg thrown over one of his, and his cheek pressed against his chest. Derek wrapped his arm back around his shoulders, and pressed his lips to the top of Stiles’ head, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.

He wanted to go to sleep and wake up to his every fucking day, but he couldn’t have it, so he would take what he could get while he had the chance.

“Night,” Stiles said quietly.

“Night,” Derek replied, and kissed whatever part of Stiles’ face he could reach in this position.

“Stop making out over there,” Matt’s voice said from across the room.

“We’re not,” Stiles insisted. “Though I might blow Derek later.”

“Dude, you blow him with me in the room, I’ll make you regret it.”

Stiles chuckled and got more comfortable against Derek’s chest. For a long while, there was nothing but the soft sound of breathing and Stiles’ slightly elevated heartrate. After a while, it evened out and his breathing deepened.

When both Stiles and Matt were asleep, Derek tightened his grip on Stiles and pressed his lips more firmly against the top of his head, eyebrows down in a frown.

“I love you,” he said, voice barely a whisper, and closed his eyes to try and sleep.

* * *

To say the next morning had been awkward would be an understatement. Luckily Matt had still been asleep when Derek had woken up, and both he and Stiles were hard. Normal, really, but it was uncomfortable being hard in a bed with someone he liked who he was currently pretending to date, so he shook Stiles awake in order to get out of bed—Stiles was a fucking octopus in his sleep, it was a wonder Derek hadn’t lost circulation to any limbs—and had gone to the bathroom.

He’d beaten off as quickly and quietly as he could in one of the bathroom stalls, snarling unintentionally when he came, the scent of Stiles still on his skin. Luckily no one else had been around to hear him, and he washed his hands and went back to the room without running into anyone.

Stiles and Matt continued to sleep for a few hours, so Derek texted Scott and Parrish to make sure everything was in order for them both. Scott was at school just like Stiles, but they kept in touch in case Beacon Hills needed its Alpha for any reason. Derek was good at keeping the Hale territory safe, but some things needed the Alpha.

It had been weird finally accepting Scott as his Alpha and officially joining the McCall Pack, but at the same time, he felt like he’d always kind of been a part of it. Even when Scott had refused to join his pack officially, he and Stiles were always around when shit went down and overall, they had always been a Pack from the beginning, just not an official one.

He was still texting Scott when Stiles woke up, and his stumbling around woke Matt. They both went to the bathroom for their morning routines, and when they wandered sleepily back into the room, Stiles plopped down on top of Derek at his desk and kissed him lazily.

“Morning,” he muttered, eyes closed and head resting on Derek’s shoulder. “It’s too early. I want to go back to sleep.”

“It’s almost eleven,” Derek said with a laugh.

“Ugh, so early,” Stiles whined.

Matt just shook his head and got dressed, tossing random clothes at Stiles, who just batted them away. It occurred to Derek that Matt threw clothes at him a lot, and it made him wonder if Stiles had ever walked out of the room naked before.

Back in Beacon Hills, Stiles usually passed out fully dressed and would just wander around wearing the previous day’s clothes if he couldn’t change before having to head out. Since he seemed to actually change before bed now, maybe he was used to being able to wander out and forgot that he needed to wear _actual_  clothes before exiting the room.

It took them close to twenty minutes to get Stiles dressed, and even then, Derek had to mostly force the clothes on him.

“He’s _your_  boyfriend,” Matt had insisted, hands up and backing away, “you can dress him.”

Because that hadn’t been awkwardly uncomfortable for Derek, but also really fucking amazing.

The morning had been relatively tame. They’d gone to breakfast together in the cafeteria, and had gone back to the room to watch some Netflix. Jess and Brian showed up around one, and they ordered pizza a little after two.

When four rolled around, Derek went to shower and started getting ready so that they could head to the dinner early, since Stiles wasn’t entirely sure where it was and they’d have to hunt around to find it.

Derek had brought the only suit he owned, and Jess had wolf-whistled when he’d stepped back into the room, arranging his tie. He smiled winningly at her, and she pretended to swoon and fanned herself. Derek really liked her, she was open and honest, and kind of reminded him of Lydia sometimes.

Stiles wasn’t as dressed up as Derek when he re-entered the room—which he’d insisted was because he hadn’t brought anything fancy from home—but Derek still thought he looked amazing. He even said so and leaned forward to kiss him, having the excuse because there were other people in the room.

They left the room around four forty-five, waving goodbye to the others and walking towards the parking to get Derek’s car. They picked up Maya, who was also invited to the dinner and was bringing her roommate, and then spent close to fifteen minutes talking over each other trying to figure out where they were going. Derek was the only one who didn’t speak, because he didn’t have a clue where they were meant to be headed.

They found the location with only five minutes to spare, and were greeted warmly when they entered. All the tables had assigned seating, so Derek took a seat at the spot labelled ‘Stilinski Guest’ and ended up in a heated discussion with his neighbour about deforestation and its effects on ecosystems.

Every time he looked at Stiles, he found him smiling fondly at him. Derek raised an eyebrow each time, but Stiles just laughed, slapped him on the back, and turned to his own neighbour to discuss something or another.

Derek was actually having a relatively good time, and even laughed more than once, mostly when people saw Stiles’ name-card and tried to pronounce his name.

His favourite so far was the honouree from the Faculty of Arts, who’d just started calling him Mxyzptlk. Stiles had also seemed to get a kick out of that, and the two of them had started talking about Superman and various other DC characters.

Around eight, once all the food had been served, the music got louder and the host invited people to dance. Most people mingled on the dance floor without actually dancing, but at half past, a catchy tune came on and Stiles immediately latched himself to Derek’s side, looking positively gleeful.

“I love this song! We’re dancing!”

“Stiles, I’m not dancing.”

“Yes you are! Come on!”

Derek only halfheartedly tried to resist, but in the end he knew he’d never have another opportunity like this so he let Stiles drag him out onto the floor. Stiles was all flailing limbs and weird expressions, but Derek liked that about him. He wasn’t trying to be someone he wasn’t, he was just _Stiles_.

When the song ended, Derek indulged Stiles and danced a few more songs with him, including two slow songs and the macarena. After that, Stiles and Maya danced together while Derek and Maya’s roommate started talking about where she was from and what her future interests were.

They ended up leaving around ten-thirty, dropping Maya and her roommate off before heading back to the dorm. Matt was asleep when they entered the room, so they forewent showers and just undressed and crawled into bed.

Derek had barely gotten settled when Stiles was half on top of him, burrowing his face into Derek’s chest and exhaling a good night before promptly falling asleep. Smiling, Derek rubbed at Stiles’ back with one hand, the other beneath his own head while he stared at the ceiling.

If he closed his eyes and tuned out Matt, he could almost pretend that this was actually real.

* * *

“You have to come back and visit, okay?” Jess insisted, hugging Derek so tightly he actually wondered if she had super-strength because, damn. “I mean it. I know it’s a long drive, but you have to visit us, it’s not fair if Stiles gets you all to himself.”

“Hey!” Stiles insisted from beside him. “For that, I’m _definitely_  making sure he never comes back!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll just visit you without letting Stiles know,” Derek said with a wink when Jess finally pulled away. Stiles hit him hard in the back, but it probably hurt his hand more than it hurt Derek.

“Good to meet you, man.” Matt held out his hand and Derek shook it. “It was nice having someone around who knows how to handle Stiles’ crazy.”

“Been doing it for years, I’m kind of an expert,” Derek said with a sigh. “But Scott’s probably better.”

“Scott is definitely _not_ better,” Jess insisted with a snort. “Stiles is _way_  worse when they’re together, how have you never noticed that?” 

“I guess I was always too busy staring at Stiles,” Derek said honestly. He realized his slipup too late, but Stiles hadn’t seemed to notice, since he was speaking to Brian about their dinner plans.

Derek bid Brian farewell, told the group to give his best to Maya and Neil since they hadn’t joined them for brunch, and then he and Stiles turned to head for the parkade.

Once everyone was out of sight, they kept their arms around each other while they walked, but didn’t speak. It felt like an extremely long walk to the parking garage, and yet at the same time, the shortest distance Derek had ever closed.

When they finally reached the lot and were underground, Stiles let his arm fall and Derek reluctantly followed. They both headed for his car together and Derek unlocked it, tossing his bag into the passenger seat and turning to look at Stiles, leaning one arm against the open driver’s door.

Stiles was leaning sideways against the back door of the car, pounding his fist lightly against the roof and watching his own hand move.

“That was fun,” Derek admitted, making Stiles look up at him. “The weekend. Your friends are nice. I was actually hoping I could hate them since you’ll be moving back to Beacon Hills eventually and can’t tell them the truth about you, but they’re all really nice.”

“They liked you,” Stiles admitted, as if Derek hadn’t already heard them whispering to Stiles when he shouldn’t have been close enough to hear. Stiles had to know Derek had been listening. “We’ll have to figure out a way to get you back out here. We can always say we broke up and are still friends.”

“Sure.” Derek didn’t know what else to say.

They stood awkwardly facing each other, neither saying anything. Stiles wasn’t even looking at him, and after a moment, he rubbed the back of his neck and nodded once.

“Well, thanks for this. I appreciate it. Glad you had fun. I’ll, uh, see you in the summer.”

“Yeah.” Derek wanted to kiss him. He so badly wanted to kiss him. Just one last time. Just once fucking more.

“Have a safe drive home.” Stiles beamed at him, stepped away from the car, and waved. Then he turned his back on him and headed out of the parkade.

Derek watched him go, and waited until he could no longer hear his footsteps before getting into the car. Slamming the door and buckling himself in, he sat with his hands on the wheel, staring out the windshield for what felt like an eternity.

A part of him wanted to run back out and insist that Stiles was crazy, they were perfect, and none of this had been pretend for him. A smarter part of him knew that his life was shit, everything good in his life left him, and he was never going to get what he wanted.

So, Derek started the car, went to return the parking pass to the guard at the station on his way out, and left the campus. The further out he drove, the more the hole in his chest widened. He did his best to ignore it, but knew it was likely never going to go away.

He’d known taking this chance with Stiles was a bad idea. He’d known from the very beginning that pretending to be dating someone he was _actually_  interested in was a bad idea, but he’d done it anyway.

If Derek bought a pie on his way home and ate the entire thing during the six hour drive, nobody needed to know about it.

* * *

Being home had helped Derek a great deal with what had happened over the weekend. It was still hard sometimes, and he wished he’d never been stupid enough to go at all, but at least he had fond memories to look back on. Even if none of the relationship was real, he’d still enjoyed spending time with Stiles, and being with him during the school year had been a nice change. He hated that he had three more years of this, and even started worrying about Stiles not coming back.

Of course he’d visit, his dad lived in Beacon Hills, but what if what he wanted in life was something he couldn’t _find_  in Beacon Hills? What if he had to go elsewhere to get it and that elsewhere was far, far away from Derek?

Forcing himself to stop thinking about Stiles, Derek focussed his attention back on the book he was reading. It was his fourth book since his return home four days ago. He’d gotten back late on Sunday and hadn’t done much but think about Stiles, jerk off thinking about Stiles, and then feel guilty and miserable over jerking off thinking about Stiles. Monday had been designated to cleaning the loft and getting groceries, so with nothing left to do by the end of the evening, Derek had started reading. It was now Wednesday and he was part-way through a ridiculous Vampire series, but at least the Werewolf portrayal was fairly accurate. None of that _Twilight_  garbage.

He was halfway through an obligatory sex scene when he frowned at the sound of the door downstairs opening, looking up at the loft door, book held loosely in his hand. He listened to footsteps climb the stairs rapidly and recognized the distinct elevated heartrate of the person coming.

Putting the book down and getting to his feet, he knew it had to be bad if Stiles had shown up late in the night on a Wednesday from six hours away. Maybe something had happened to his dad, but he’d have hoped Stiles would’ve called so Derek could _do_  something while Stiles drove out there.

Reaching the door, he pulled it open just as Stiles was about to, and stared down at him. He was panting, which was not from the climb up to the loft, and his hair was dishevelled like he’d been running his hands through it. His eyes were bright, cheeks a little pink from the cool air outside, and his lips were wet, as if he’d been licking at them.

When Derek opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, Stiles grabbed his face in both hands and wrenched it down, crushing their lips together. Derek stumbled back a step in surprise, Stiles almost falling into him because he refused to let him go and wouldn’t break the kiss.

“I don’t want it to be pretend,” he insisted urgently when he finally pulled back, but he didn’t let go of Derek’s face. “I don’t want you to be my fake boyfriend. I want you to be my _real_ boyfriend. Derek, I fucking _love_ you.”

He shifted so his arms were wrapped around Derek’s shoulders, hugging him tightly with his face pressed against one of his own arms. Derek stood there, hands at his sides, trying to figure out what was happening, and that was when he realized Stiles was shaking.

Stiles was hugging him like he was afraid to let him go, and he was shaking with fear. Fear of rejection, fear of an angry response, fear of ruining a friendship. Derek understood those fears well, because it was why he had kept his feelings for Stiles buried deep, where no one could see them and he only pulled out when he was alone and needed comfort.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Stiles said, beginning to ramble as he so often did when he was nervous or scared. “I told Scott about how I’d been pretending you were my boyfriend all year, and the dinner came up, and I had to bring a plus one, and I didn’t know what to do, and he said to ask you to be my pretend boyfriend so that I could at least have that one weekend. But one weekend didn’t help, it only made it worse. Having loved and lost is definitely _not_ better than never having loved at all, because all I can think about is your chest under my cheek, and your lips on my neck, and your arm around my shoulders, and _God_ , Derek, the way you _smell_. I’m not a Werewolf, but I swear I can smell you from a mile away. And I had you, I _had_  you, and then you _left_ , and I just couldn’t, and I’m sorry. And I know it’s not fair, and I should’ve told you, and—”

“Stiles,” Derek interrupted, reaching up to push at his shoulders. Stiles stopped talking, but he tightened his hold on Derek, unwilling to let him push him away. “Stiles, let go.”

The devastation that poured off Stiles in waves almost overwhelmed him, and Derek was annoyed that Stiles didn’t _understand_.

“Stiles, let me go because I can’t fucking kiss you with your face where it is!”

Stiles tensed at those words, going absolutely still. He even stopped breathing, like he was positive if he exhaled, the world would shatter around him and he wouldn’t really have heard those words. Derek could relate, because a part of him was scared that if he lifted his hands and _touched_  Stiles in a desperate way, that this wouldn’t be real. That it would disappear.

Slowly, letting out a soft exhale, Stiles loosened his grip and stepped back, hands clenching tightly at the material of Derek’s shirt at the shoulders. When he looked up into Derek’s face, with wide brown eyes and soft features and looking so fucking _hopeful_...

Derek grabbed his face and kissed him. It wasn’t a soft, slow kiss of passion. This kiss was wet, and angry, and desperate, and every emotion Stiles had ever made Derek feel.

Every quick jerk off session Derek had endured during stake outs, every wet dream he’d had after spending hours with him, every fucking fantasy Derek had ever had while watching Stiles speak and stick things in his fucking _mouth_. God, the dirty things Derek wanted to do with that mouth.

Derek was the one unwilling to let Stiles pull away this time, forcing him back a few steps until his back hit the wall, the Werewolf pining him in place with his body. When Stiles’ grip on his shoulders was more actual skin than shirt, Derek finally pulled his tongue out of Stiles’ mouth and broke the kiss, but he didn’t stop there. He just instead started kissing and sucking along his jaw and down his neck, latching onto his pulse and sucking hard.

“Oh shit, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Stiles panted, hands leaving Derek’s shoulders to claw at the back of his shirt so hard that he was choking Derek a little bit.

“Bed,” Derek growled against Stiles’ skin, feeling his fangs itching at his gums.

“Yes, oh fuck yes,” Stiles blurted out, nodding vigorously. “Bed, yes.”

Derek backed away from him and grabbed the front of Stiles’ shirt, wrenching him away from the wall as if worried he was about to make a break for the door.

Slamming the sliding door shut, he pulled Stiles along behind him by the shirt, moving across the loft to the stairs so they could hurry up to the bed. They’d only made it halfway across when Stiles tugged Derek to a halt and placed open-mouthed kisses along his stubbled jaw. 

“Couch,” Stiles insisted.

“Definitely couch,” Derek agreed, shoving Stiles back so hard he almost tripped over his own feet, then landed hard on the couch. Derek climbed on top of him, pushing Stiles’ shirt up and latching onto a nipple, biting and sucking on the nub while Stiles kept swearing and taking the Lord’s name in vain.

Derek’s hands were working on undoing Stiles’ jeans, and Stiles already had his own wedged beneath the waistband of Derek’s pants, clawing at his ass.

Just as Derek got the other’s jeans undone, he sat up to pull them off, Stiles lifting his hips, when there were two bangs on the loft door before it opened.

“Derek, I think you need to—”

Derek and Stiles both stared in frozen shock, the sheriff having made it four steps into the loft before freezing on the spot, the three of them staring at each other for a few long, awkward, silent seconds.

“I tried to stop him,” Liam’s voice called from out of sight. “I promise I tried!”

The sheriff opened his mouth, closed it, then shook his head and threw both hands in the air in a “I don’t wanna know” gesture before turning away.

“There are bodies, so get your clothes back on. You can finish that up later.”

Derek had never gotten to his feet so fast in his life, and Stiles was in such a rush to stand _and_  get his pants done back up at the same time that he tripped over himself. Derek was glad for his quick reflexes, because it allowed him to grab Stiles’ arm to stop him falling head-first into the coffee table. 

“Oh, and Stiles?” the sheriff called from outside the loft, making his son wince.

“Yeah?” he asked uncertainly.

“This is the second time you’ve come to Beacon Hills for Derek instead of me. I’m starting to regret not arresting him.”

Stiles let out a startled laugh, then turned to grin at Derek. “Breakin’ my dad’s heart, like I said.”

“I’m sure he’ll live,” Derek insisted, bending down to kiss Stiles’ lips lightly, because now he actually _could_. “You can make it up to him, I’m sure.”

“Curly fries and steak. Works every time,” Stiles said with a grin, pressing his lips against Derek’s in another lingering kiss.

“Boys! Dead bodies! Let’s go!”

“He’s right. The faster we solve the dead bodies problem, the faster we can come back and have sex.” Stiles slapped Derek’s butt, the Werewolf stiffening slightly in shock, but he rolled his eyes when Stiles waggled his eyebrows.

Only Stiles Stilinski could mention dead bodies and sex in the same sentence.

Derek fucking loved this idiot.

And apparently, the fucking idiot loved him too.

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> Superman (c) DC  
> Twilight (c) Stephenie Meyer


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